


Rediscovery

by KaytiKazoo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, First Time, Gender or Sex Swap, Male Cora Hale, Menstruation, Minor Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Shower Sex, Stiles Stilinski Has a Vagina, Vaginal Fingering, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4473170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaytiKazoo/pseuds/KaytiKazoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a witch coven, and they weren’t terrorizing as much as they were just passing through and things happen when a coven of high powered witches get near an ancient source of power like the Nemeton.<br/>Stiles had said some things, because he’s Stiles, and there was a flash of light, and now Cora’s clothes fit too close to her chest and her jeans were tight in some places and baggy in others. And Stiles-<br/>Stiles was a girl.</p><p>Or the one where Stiles and Cora stumble upon a powerful, irritable coven of witches, and find themselves transformed into the opposite sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”-The Notebook_

It wasn’t her fault, really. If anything, the blame could be placed entirely on Stiles. In 99.999% of situations, that was the case. In fact, this was one of those times.

“How did this- I was gone for- what even-” her brother stuttered out, taking a look at Stiles and Cora standing awkwardly at the tree line near the old Hale house. To be fair, no one else had believed them that there was _something_ in the Preserve. They had claimed that Stiles and Cora were seeing things, which they _weren’t_ , thank you very much! It had been just the two of them on their hike to find whatever it was that was terrorizing the population of Beacon Hills.

It had been a witch coven, and they weren’t terrorizing as much as they were just passing through and things happen when a coven of high powered witches get near an ancient source of power like the Nemeton.

Stiles had said some things, because he’s Stiles, and there was a flash of light, and now Cora’s clothes fit too close to her chest and her jeans were tight in some places and baggy in others. And Stiles-

Stiles was a girl.

Cora didn’t consider herself anything other than straight, but looking at Stiles as a girl, she would rethink that in a heartbeat. Stiles’ hair had grown out just enough to give him this page boy kind of style, and his jawline had rounded to something softer, more feminine. His lips were the same, full with that stupid Cupid’s bow shape that Cora always wanted to kiss, and his eyes were still that sunshine through whiskey color in the right lighting. He still had the same moles in all the right spots, but he had curves now, and breasts hidden beneath all his layers. He was shorter, too, although his legs were seemingly just as long as they had been before.

“You’re staring,” he said, and his voice was different.

“To be fair, you’re staring, too,” Cora replied, and her voice was deeper and more gravelly than it had ever been. If Stiles was a girl, the change in Cora’s clothing must mean that she was a boy.

“That’s because you’re hot as a guy,” Stiles replied. “I can’t, you’re so attractive that I don’t care what just happened.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” Cora said, reaching out to push a stray strand of Stiles’ hair away from his face. Her hand was larger, more like Derek’s or her father’s. She stroked her fingertips along Stiles’ smooth skin, tracing from one mole to another. She wanted to kiss Stiles, and she was so close that she could just lean in and connect their lips but-

“We need to go,” Stiles said. “I don’t feel so good.”

Cora was about to ask him what he meant, when the feeling swept over her as well. She hadn’t been ill in her life since she had the fortune of being born a werewolf, except for that time that she had poison in her system and nearly died. Whatever was happening to her was not nearly as bad as that, but she felt wrong. Off, somehow.

“Deaton,” she replied, her voice hollow and gravelly.

They hadn’t really made it to Deaton, at first. Together they stumbled to the clearing where the Hale house used to be and found her brother waiting for them. His nose wrinkled and his eyebrows furrowed together, and she could see him scenting the air.

“Who are you?” he snarled.

Cora could tell without looking that Stiles was gearing up to say something stupid that would get them killed, so she said quickly, “It’s me, Der. Cora. Your sister. I know you can tell, I have the same scent. So does Stiles.”

“This could be some kind of trick,” Derek said without dropping his guard.

“It could be,” Cora agreed, looking to Stiles whose new feminine face still managed to make the same facial expressions. “But it’s not. It’s us.”

“How do I know that for sure?”

“Laura used to call you Rick to piss you off when we were kids. She used to do it so often that you kept losing control of your shift and Mom finally had to intervene, but still sometimes she would whisper it to you when Mom wasn’t paying attention,” Cora said, the memory tumbling out of her mouth. Laura had been on her mind a lot recently, what with her birthday coming up soon.

Derek’s guard fell and his shoulders relaxed. That memory, she supposed, had died with Laura.

“And that’s Stiles?” he asked, jerking his chin towards Stiles.

“Yeah, that’s Stiles,” Stiles grumbled. Derek’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I was expecting your voice to be different,” he explained when Stiles looked agitated. Cora chuckled, and her laugh was foreign in her own throat. “Higher pitched or something.”

“I’m going to punch you,” Stiles threatened, crossing his arms over his chest. He dropped his arms and looked down, as if surprised to find breasts there. He pulled out the front of his shirt, which now fit too loose on his considerably smaller shoulders, and made a noise that even Cora couldn’t understand.

Cora felt a wave of not-quite nausea hit her and she swayed, and saw Stiles do the same, his slender face going paler than usual. Whatever the coven did to them was not just as simple as switching their sexes, although that certainly isn’t simple.

Then, everything became muted and Cora’s senses were just gone. She couldn’t hear anything or see anything or smell anything; it was like she was in this vacuum of nothing, and she couldn’t even properly panic since she couldn’t even inhale or exhale. It didn’t feel like passing out. When you pass out, Cora knew from experience, you just stopped being aware of everything around you, everything black until it wasn’t. But this-

She didn’t know what this was.

-&-

When she came to, if that’s what she did, her head was cradled in Derek’s lap, and she was staring up at the harsh artificial light of the vet clinic. She squinted, unsure of what had happened, and turned her head.

“Where’s Stiles?” she asked first.

“Here.” She heard and turned to look for him. He was curled up on his side with his head on a balled up jacket, face as pale as possible, and his hair hanging in his eyes. Scott was sitting nearby, his feet tucked under the curve of Stiles’ side. “You okay?”

Cora nodded but wasn’t sure that she was, in fact, okay. She felt weak, like the energy had been drained from her. She pushed herself up, and felt Derek’s hand rest on her back, steadying her, anchoring her.

“You look terrible,” Stiles offered with a tired smirk.

“If I had more energy, I would punch you.”

“You wouldn’t hit a lady, would you?!”

Cora snorted.

“You’re no lady, Stilinski,” she replied.

“If I didn’t feel like actual, literal death, I would be offended,” Stiles informed her, before Scott moved closer and pressed a hand to Stiles’ forehead.

“Is he okay?”

“He just feels a little warm,” Scott said, pushing back Stiles’ hair to try again. “I’m going to call my mom. I don’t know if she’s going to know what to do, but she’s a step above the rest of us.”

He stood up and left the room, pulling out his phone. Cora scooted over to Stiles and lay down beside him, resting her head on her own arm so she could face him. He smiled weakly, his eyes blinking slowly as he fought to stay awake. She reached out her free hand to lace their fingers, which felt odd now that her hand was bigger than his. He still had long fingers but not nearly as long as they had been, and her hand dwarfed his.

Everything felt new. Just touching Stiles felt like they’d never done that before; which she supposed in these bodies, they hadn’t.

Stiles smiled.

“I’m not dying, right?” he asked. “We didn’t go out into the preserve, get gender-swapped, and then end up dying, right?”

Cora wanted to shush him, to calm his nerves, but she wasn’t sure that she would be telling the truth. She wasn’t sure _what_ was wrong with him, but she knew that he wasn’t getting better. His grip was loose and weary.

He started to cough, his entire body wracking with each violent bark. She shuffled in closer and pulled at Stiles’ pain. He settled as the pain dissipated up Cora’s arm, his eyes fluttering shut.

They stayed laying together until Melissa and Scott stepped back into the exam room. Melissa hurried to Stiles’ side, and eased him awake.

“Hey Stiles,” she said gently. “I need you to sit up so I can exam you.”

She and Cora eased Stiles up, and Cora held him up while Melissa examined Stiles. She sat back and let out a small laugh.

“Stiles is suffering from a sudden and rather harsh cold, the symptoms almost flu-like.”

“What?” Scott and Derek said.

“Stiles is in a brand new body,” Melissa explained. “His immune system is not what it was when he was in his own body. It needs to build back up the immunity he had. At this point, he is going to be very susceptible to any kind of virus he comes into contact with.”

“Why isn’t Cora sick?” Stiles asked, his nose stuffed.

“Cora is a werewolf,” Deaton said from nearby. Cora hadn’t even noticed he was there. “Her immune system is much better than a humans, even brand new she is able to fend off the harshest of viruses.”

Stiles glared at Cora, and said, “You suck, Cor. I hate you and your advanced immune system.”

“So we basically just have to wait it out and hope Stiles gets better?” Scott asked.

“That’s exactly what you normally do, you useless werewolf,” Stiles whined. Cora ran her hands through Stiles’ hair and stroked his jaw. He hummed. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“Well, if it’s just a cold, then I’m going to take you home so you can get some rest,” Cora said. “If that’s okay with you, Melissa.”

“Of course. He’s going to need all the rest he can get. You’re lucky it’s summer, though. It would be hard to explain why Stiles Stilinski became a girl overnight,” Melissa replied.

“I can’t wait to see how my dad reacts,” Stiles said before leaning into Cora, too tired to continue. She helped him stand and smiled at him, pressing a kiss into his fever-warm temple. “God, you’re hot,” he muttered, looking up at Cora. He was so small like this, tall still but slender.

“Come on, Stilinski. Let’s get you to bed.”

Cora said goodbye and led Stiles to his car. He didn’t usually let people drive the Jeep, but he let Cora, which always made her feel all stupidly warm and fuzzy on the inside. She helped him into the passenger seat and he curled himself into the seat while she got into the driver’s side. She wasn’t sure how his Jeep had gotten to the clinic, but Derek’s Toyota was missing so maybe he had driven the Jeep to the clinic with a passed out Cora and Stiles in tow. She drove them back to the Stilinski house, where the Sheriff’s cruiser waited in the driveway.

“This is going to certainly be interesting,” Stiles assured her. He went to open the passenger door but paused.

“You okay?”

He held up a hand and tipped his head back, sucking in deep breaths before sneezing hard. His sneeze hadn’t changed; it was still big and loud and took all of his body to produce. Cora hopped out of her side and headed for the front steps of the house.

She was so used to just walking into the Stilinski house. She and Stiles had been dating for almost a year, and she’d been letting herself in since about the second month when the Sheriff stopped scaring her quite so much. He was a goodhearted, genuinely funny man that reminded Cora a lot of her own father growing up, and once she was assured that his gun was locked up at all times when he was home, she relaxed around him.

However, she really should’ve thought this situation over before she let herself right in without saying a word.

The Sheriff wouldn’t draw his service weapon if Cora were to walk in, usually, but this wasn’t usually. Cora was now over six feet tall with broad shoulders that felt too tight in her shirt, and her long hair was now cut close to her head. She had checked herself out in the mirror in the car, and she was fairly attractive. If someone who looked like her had hit on her in a bar, well, she wouldn’t say no. The point is, Cora did not look like Cora anymore. Instead, she looked like a younger version of her father.

She rounded a corner into the kitchen and found herself facing the business end of the Sheriff’s gun.

“What are you doing in my house?”

Cora’s heart thudded wildly. She wasn’t used to being on this side of the Sheriff’s weapon, and she would have really liked to avoid being there in the first place.

“Dad! No! It’s us! It’s me, Stiles!” Stiles said, skidding to a stop beside her, his voice congested.

“You are not my son,” the Sheriff said, his gun still trained on Cora. “I don’t know who you two are but you need to get out of my house. Right now.”

Cora looked at Stiles, her eyes wide. He chewed on his lip and pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. He pushed his long bangs out of his eyes, until his amber eyes lit up with a thought.

“If I’m not your son, then how would I know that you and Mom met because Mom was a student teacher that chaperoned a trip to the Sheriff’s station and she spilled your coffee on you and accidentally asked you out instead of saying sorry?”

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow.

“Or that when Mom died, the first thing you did was lift me up into your arms because I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe and you sang me Mom’s old lullaby until I fell asleep?”

“Stiles? How?” the Sheriff stuttered out. “And who’s this?”

“This is Cora,” Stiles said. “We, uhhh, we got hit by a spell by this coven of witches. It changed our genders, obviously.”

“Why do you sound like you’re sick?” the Sheriff asked.

“That’s what you’re concerned about? Your son just became your daughter, and brought home his new boyfriend that used to be a girlfriend and you’re concerned that my nose is a little stuffed?” Stiles asked.

“Melissa said that it’s because he’s in a brand new body, so his immune system is defenseless,” Cora answered for him, rolling her eyes at Stiles’ reaction. “He’ll be fine. We just need to find a way to get back to our own bodies.”

“What were you two doing near a, what did you say? A coven of witches? Was anyone else affected?”

Cora and Stiles traded a look and the Sheriff let out a sigh.

“You two are incredible idiots.”

Stiles swayed and leaned into Cora.

“I’m going to get some rest, Dad. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?”

“No, I’ll order something for us. You get all the sleep you need.”

Cora took Stiles by the arm and led him up the stairs and into his room. He listed slowly into her until she sat him on the bed.

“Let’s get you into something more comfortable,” she said, pushing the over shirt off Stiles’ slender shoulders. Stiles smirked up at her with that expectant, attempted sultry look that Cora was used to by now and she flicked him on the nose. “Lift your arms so I can get this off.”

The smirk turned into a full-on grin.

“You just want to see my new boobs.”

Cora leaned down and pressed their lips together. It was their first kiss like this, and she reveled in the new sensations. His lips, normally chapped, were soft and fitted differently between her own. She leaned him against the bed and her hands went to the button on his jeans. He laughed into the kiss and helped her slip his legs out of them. The skin along his legs was pale but smooth, as if his female body had shaved that day.

“God, you’re just touching my legs, and it feels so good,” Stiles whined, tilting his head back to expose his throat.

“Apparently, the girl version of you is much more sensitive than regular you,” Cora answered. “If you feel better before we get switched back, I have an idea.”

“Does it involve you, me, and absolutely no clothing?” Stiles asked as Cora moved to pull his shirt over his head, leaving him topless in just a pair of ill-fitting boxers. His breasts were small, and perky, his nipples pink and hard against the cool air of his room.

“I want to see just how sensitive the rest of you is,” Cora said, kissing him slowly.

Stiles shuttered. She stood up and rummaged through his drawers until she came back with a pair of her pajamas that she’d left in his room, soft pink pants with an equally pink tank top that was lined with frilly lace. She wasn’t the kind, usually, for pink anything but they were so unbelievably soft that she couldn’t turn them down.

“What? Why?” Stiles asked after she tossed them to him.

“Trust me.”

Stiles frowned but pulled the tank top on; Cora watched in fascination as his face shifted into some kind of weird elation.

“This is the softest piece of clothing I have ever touched. Is it this soft when you wear it?”

“Yes, but you only touch the outside, and the inside is softer,” Cora explained. She tugged her own shirt off with some difficulty, and tossed it to the hamper. She started to laugh at the sight of her new masculine chest stretching her push-up bra awkwardly without anything to fill it. She reached behind her and popped open the clasp, letting it fall off her and to the floor. She had to peel the jeans from her legs, and had to stifle her laugh at the sight of her girl-style boxers on her boy-style body. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Might as well. It’s not going to fit me until this is fixed.”

Stiles laid down on his half of the bed while Cora peeled off her underwear and redressed in a pair of Stiles’ boxers and a pair of old secondhand police academy sweatpants that Stiles inherited from his father. He was watching her with a lazy kind of appreciation, his eyes tracking the expanse of her back and over her ass, and up her stomach slowly when she turned.

“God, you and your brother, abs like that must be genetic,” Stiles said, tracing her abdomen as if trying to memorize her all over again. She climbed in to bed on her own side and curled Stiles into her chest. Normally, and she hated to admit this out loud, they slept with Cora’s back to his chest, wrapped up safely. He made her feel safe, surrounded by warmth and pack. They settled for a moment, and then Cora grunted unhappily. “You need to switch, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

They shifted so Stiles became the big spoon, and Cora smiled to herself, hiding it in the pillow. Cora’s wolf wasn’t a separate being from herself, and she didn’t feel its desires different from her own, but if she could, she knew that it would be singing its happiness, radiating the feeling of security.

She fell asleep easily, the new body tired already and ready to rest from the thrilling first day it had had. She dreamt of Stiles, but she couldn’t be sure which body he was in. She dreamt of his laugh and his fingertips brushing along her bare skin to scent her. She dreamt of their first kiss in the middle of a life or death crisis, their awkward laugh afterwards as they breathed the same air, grateful to be alive. She dreamt mostly of just eating with him, easy exchanges where they talked about their days and their studies and slowly got to know each other.

-&-

When she woke, they were still not the right genders. Stiles was dragging sleepy wet kisses along her neck and it was causing stirrings in her boxers that she was unfamiliar with. She whimpered as he latched his mouth onto her neck behind her ear.

“Good to know you still respond the same way,” Stiles mumbled into her skin. “I want to find out all the sounds your new body makes.”

“Promises, promises,” Cora purred, stretching out. Stiles’ hands wandered over her hot, bare skin and dipped his fingers into the waistband of her boxers. “Your dad is awake, Stiles.”

“Goddamn it,” he groaned. She turned to face him and buried herself in his chest. It wasn’t as easy, but she managed. He was soft around the edges now, squishy like a pillow.

That explained why, she thought, Stiles used her as a cushion so often.

“Do you feel better now that we’ve slept?”

“Yeah,” he answered. She pressed her hand into his stomach where the soft tank top had ridden up and pulled gently at his pain to find there was none. “Much better, actually. As if the cold never happened.”

She grinned and eased him onto his back, covering him with her body the way he did her. She kissed him slowly, lazily, easy like Sunday morning, licking into his mouth, discovering every bit of him over and over again.

It was strange that his sudden cold was suddenly gone, but it was also strange that Stiles was a boy in a girl’s body and Cora was a girl in a boy’s body, so she wasn’t sure where it fell on the Strange Scale.

He pushed his hips up into her groin and she couldn’t help the loud, growling moan that fell from her lips. He grinned.

“Sweet justice,” he mumbled, latching his mouth onto her ear and dragged his teeth delicately over the skin. She let her hand drift up his ribs to his left breast, cupping it gently and brushing her thumb over his nipple. He whimpered in return, the sound breathy and helpless.

“Not while I’m in the house, guys!” the Sheriff called from nearby. It shocked them out of their concentration on each other. Stiles’ round apple cheeks tinged pink as he realized how loud they had been, with the Sheriff still within earshot. Cora sat up and called out an apology in reply. “Come down to breakfast fully dressed and I’ll think about accepting that apology!”

“Are you cooking?” Stiles asked.

“Pancakes and sausage,” the Sheriff answered. Stiles practically vaulted off the bed and headed for his dresser. He stopped and frowned at the clothes in his drawers and then down at his curved sides and feminine hips.

“Fuck.”

“My clothes are in the bottom drawer,” Cora answered, standing up and grabbing a pair of Stiles’ pants and a shirt. She pressed a kiss into his cheek. “There’s a bra in there, too.”

Stiles groaned.

“I don’t know how to put one on, though.”

“I’ll help you,” she promised. He picked from the two bras available, one a sports bra that Cora wore while jogging through the Preserve and that Stiles struggled to pull off her, and the other was a lacy white push-up bra that was actually a cup-size too small for Cora and made her breasts spill from the cups. Stiles picked the white lacy bra and held it up in front of him. “Step one, take off your tank top.”

Stiles stripped naked, dropping even his boxers and Cora had to pause to breathe deeply. She wasn’t sure if Stiles’ female form affected her this much because she was unaware of the full extent of her sexuality, or if it was because this was Stiles. Maybe it was a bit of both. It didn’t matter, because it felt like Stiles was it for her, and she sounded crazy even to herself for thinking that way. They were still teenagers, not even graduated from high school yet. She couldn’t be that sure that Stiles would be the one she wanted for the rest of her life yet.

But yet-

“Cora, help,” Stiles said, trying to clasp the bra behind his back with his elbows bent at weird angles. She laughed, and stepped closer to him.

“Okay, okay, stop. Clasp it in front of you, and then twist it around you and over your boobs.”

“What? That’s asinine! Why would I put it on backwards just to turn it around?”

“Fine, you see how trying to clasp it behind you goes. I’ll wait.”

Stiles struggled for quite a few minutes, and Cora dressed in Stiles’ clothes while she waited for Stiles to give up.

“Okay. In front of me?” he asked, voice dejected as he accepted his failure. Cora walked him through putting the bra on and finally got to admire her boyfriend in her bra. It fit him better than it fit her, his breast and band size perfect for the bra. “How does it look?”

“Stunning,” Cora croaked out. “Put your clothes on, please.”

Stiles grinned but pulled on clothes from Cora’s drawer. It was amazing how easily the Sheriff let Cora into their home, practically moving into the house. She slept in Stiles’ bed most nights instead of her own, unless they were sleeping over at the Hale place which didn’t happen often since Derek wasn’t completely onboard with Stiles and Cora’s relationship yet. The Sheriff welcomed her, though, as if he had been waiting for her.

It was nice to have a home.

“Come on, your dad’s almost done! Race you down there!” Cora said and raced out of the room before Stiles could. She heard him curse and try to catch up, stumbling over everything like a newborn deer trying out its legs for the first time. She skidded happily into the kitchen and sat in the seat Stiles usually claimed as his own at the island. The Sheriff smiled at her but his eyes looked very distant. “You okay, Sheriff?”

He let out a noncommittal noise and finished flipping the last of the pancakes.

“It’s just that Stiles has always looked like Claudia, but now-” he broke off as Stiles stumble-ran into the kitchen and crashed directly into Cora. “Good morning, Stiles.”

“Morning, Dad!” he chirped and pulled himself into the seat beside Cora.

“I see you’re feeling better today,” the Sheriff replied.

“As if I hadn’t been sick in the first place! It’s like magic!”

“It _was_ magic, idiot,” Cora said.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at her and she returned the gesture.

“Here, children,” the Sheriff said, distracting them with two plates of food, piled high with stacks of pancakes and a small mountain of breakfast sausage links. They each took their own plate, and set about fixing their pancakes the way they liked. Stiles drenched his in too much sticky syrup, so much that it puddled at the bottom of the plate and soaked everything, which Cora was much more preferential to just butter with a touch of syrup to make the pancakes soft.

She started in on her stack, but kept her eye on the two Stilinskis. Stiles tucked in with a vigor that she had actually never seen of the boy before, while the Sheriff watched his son with a far-off expression. Cora could smell the confusion-laced pain in the Sheriff’s scent, the grief mingling in with the bewilderment.

“Stop staring at me, Cora,” the Sheriff said quietly.

“Sorry. I’m expecting everything around me to be different, but it’s not. I’m different, and Stiles is different, but you aren’t, and the house isn’t,” Cora replied. “But I just feel like everything should have changed with us.”

“How did you feel about this?” the Sheriff asked, gesturing to her and then Stiles.

When Cora had been taken into the pack in South America, she was raised by a lovely childless couple who treated her like their own, but they weren’t chatty. They didn’t ask Cora about the fire or her previous pack or how she felt being an orphan. They didn’t read her stories or anything like her mother used to. It was a cozy life, but it didn’t feel right. She didn’t feel listened to, or like they cared about her fully. She was just a kid in their house, a mouth to feed, a permission slip to sign. She didn’t have a friend, really, at home or in the pack.

It wasn’t until she came back to Beacon Hills and met the Sheriff as Stiles’ girlfriend that she had someone who asked her how she was doing even when she thought she was fine.

“I’m scared we’re not going to be able to fix it,” she answered. “Like, I know life wouldn't end if I remained a guy, but I like the way I am. I like how I was made. I like how I am and what I am.”

“Plus,” Stiles decided to add in, “I don’t want to deal with female problems.”

Cora snorted.

“It’s called a period, babe. Get over this stigma you have against it. You have females in your pack, so you might as well call it what it is. It’s not going to get away from it by ignoring it or refusing to call it its proper name.”

Stiles let out a sigh.

“I hope you get your period, actually,” she said before spearing the last bit of pancake stake and shoving it into her mouth with a smile.

“Do you think Deaton will know how to change us back?” Stiles asked.

“He might. But there’s a big chance that he might not be able to. It took an entire coven of powerful, Nemeton-worshipping witches to get us this way in the first place. He’s just one druid.”

“What are we going to do if he can’t?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.”

-&-

Cora knew that Stiles was still hoping that Deaton would have some magical fix, some remedy that would give him back his dick, but when they arrived at the vet clinic, the hope faded from Stiles’ bright eyes as Deaton let them down gently. He was incredibly irritable and huffy afterwards, making small, pointed comments at anyone he deemed worthy. Scott, who had known Stiles much longer than Cora had, just took the barbs in stride, refusing to rise to Stiles’ bait.

“I will get into contact with some old friends,” Deaton said, flipping the sign on the clinic door to OPEN, having finished his lunch, “and see what I can find out about your predicament. I will let you know if anything comes up, but until then, I have no answers for you. Enjoy your summer.”

With that, the doctor went into the back and left Cora, Stiles, and Scott alone.

“It’ll be okay, Stiles. We’ll fix this. It’s just gonna take some time,” Scott assured him. Stiles hadn’t stopped frowning. “I have to get back to work, but try to relax. It’s not going to do you any good to work yourself up over something we can’t do anything about right now.”

Stiles sighed and nodded.

“You’re right.”

Cora grinned as an idea crossed her mind, and grabbed his hand.

“I’ve got something in mind to get your mind off it,” Cora said, tugging him easily towards the door. He was always easy to move when he was a broad-shouldered, tall boy, but he was shorter now, and slender, and Cora was still werewolf-strong. “Say goodbye, Stiles.”

“Goodbye!” Stiles said, half cheer and half confusion. She led him by the hand back to the car where she pressed him into the passenger side of the Jeep and kissed him slowly. She held his face in her hands, pushing him into the door harder with her larger body. Stiles let out a small moan as she licked deliberately into his mouth. He pulled away just enough to break the kiss, breathing heavily into the space between them. “You can’t distract me with sex, Cora Hale.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Yeah, you totally can.”

“Derek is home today, so the loft is out of the question. Is your dad?”

“Yes. It’s his day off unless there’s some emergency.”

“Fuck,” Cora breathed, dropping her forehead against Stiles’. “We got take the Jeep out into the Preserve. Do you still have the blanket in the back?”

Stiles grinned.

“Didn’t take you for being voyeuristic, Hale.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she replied, kissing along his cheekbone to his lips. “Are you okay with that?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m _so_ okay with that.”

Cora stepped back, letting her grip on Stiles fall away. Stiles whined and tried to chase her grip.

“Hey, if you want to do this, you have to let me go,” she said gently. Stiles let out a huff but nodded. He circled the Jeep and popped open the driver’s side door. Cora followed suit on her own side, pulling herself up beside her boyfriend. “Onwards, Jeeves.”

“What?”

Cora rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I’m ashamed of you. Just drive.”

Stiles started up the Jeep and started it up with a whining growl. It had started to take more effort for the old girl, Roscoe (Stiles had named her), to get started, and Cora knew Stiles was going to have to give up the duct tape patch jobs and get a new car sooner rather than later. Stiles drove like he was late for something constantly, which was how, if he wasn’t the Sheriff’s only son, he would have gotten 17 traffic violation tickets in two years of driving. Stiles was lucky to be who he was, or else he wouldn’t have a license anymore.

Stiles pulled into the Preserve, and bumped along the old dusty road until they pulled into the opening to a small trail. Stiles hopped out and pulled the blanket from the backseat where they’d thrown it after their last picnic in the Preserve. Luckily, Cora knew the Preserve by heart, could feel her way through the trees merely by scent. She took Stiles’ free hand, their skin familiarly hot against one another, and she started to follow her nose, and scanned the ground for familiar markings. She was taught to track and memorize paths during her time in South America.

There was no memory for her muscle to remember, not in the body, or else she would just let her feet lead them, but she had other means at her disposal thankfully.

“I’m a virgin,” Stiles blurted out.

“What? No, you’re not,” Cora replied. “I was there, I took your virginity.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the patriarchy’s fabricated idea of virginity,” Stiles answered, teasing in his voice.

“I’m just saying, you are not a virgin, whether or not I believe in it.”

“This body didn’t have an immune system, so maybe it still is a virgin.”

Cora looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend, stumbling through the forest like he always did, like a baby deer acquainting itself with its own legs for the first time. Of course, every time Stiles stood, he was reacquainting himself with how his legs worked. He’s terribly coltish and Cora loved every awkward, confused step.

“Well then, if that’s the case, we’re just going to remedy that, aren’t we?”

Stiles grinned at her and she led them into the clearing, just a small patch of Preserve absent of trees, big enough that Stiles and Cora could stretch out in the sunshine like cats. Stiles spread out the blanket in the patch of sun and then lay down contentedly.

“Come, deflower me, Mr. Hale,” Stiles cooed, stretching out easily.

“Fuck you. I changed my mind.”

Stiles whined and sat up, making grabby hands at her. She still sank to her knees between his spread legs. Her t-shirt clung to his sides in all the right ways, and her skinny jeans looked great on his long legs. She wanted to drag them off of him, and kiss every single inch of pale, constellation-dotted skin until Stiles was shaking and begging for more.

“Come here,” Stiles demanded. Cora moved forward on her knees until she was straddling his hips, towering over him. She pressed him backwards and kissed him slowly, sliding her hands up his slender sides to rest on his breasts, soft and silky below her hands. He let out a gush of air, a sigh of contentment. For once, Stiles is silent. Cora could hear the hitch in his heartbeat as her hand slid around to his back, finding the clasp on his bra as easily as if she’d undressed him every day. She wished she could undress him every day, drag her fingertips over his bare skin, drawing new lines from each of his moles, charting paths she hadn’t found before between them. She wanted to know Stiles’ body as well as she knew her own.

The problem was, they didn’t even know their own bodies anymore.

“Why are you thinking so hard?” Stiles asked, tipping his head back as Cora drew a line of wet kisses into his throat. She wanted to drag her scent into his new skin until it only smelled of them and the trees.

“I’m just thinking about rediscovering you, all over again.”

Stiles let out a shaky breath and nodded vigorously. Cora rucked up his shirt and pressed a feather kiss to his stomach, and another higher, pushing up his shirt slowly with her nose. Stiles kept one hand gripped gently in her hair, his head thrown back. She ran a hand up and eased the bra straps from Stiles’ arms before discarding the bra entirely, tossing it away to be dealt with later. Stiles sat up just enough to pull his shirt up over his head, throwing it in the same direction of the bra. He shivered as a gust of wind blew across his exposed chest, his nipples peaking in the cool air.

It was a good summer day, hot but with a nice chilled wind blowing in from the ocean a few miles away. The sun beat down on them, warming Cora’s skin as she covered Stiles with her own body. She eased him backwards to lay down and kissed him, fingertips toying with a nipple, rolling it back and forth as Stiles whimpered quietly into her mouth.

“Cora,” he whined, breaking the kiss to breathe. The way he said her name sent a shiver not related to the wind down her spine. Cora trailed her mouth in a hot, wet line down his neck and over his collarbone. The high-pitched, needy sound vibrating in Stiles’ chest broke off in a gasp as Cora latched her mouth over Stiles’ nipple.

“ ** _SHE AIN’T A’FOOLIN’ ME! SHE THINKS MY TRACTOR’S SEXY! IT REALLY TURNS HER ON! SHE’S ALWAYS STARING AT ME WHILE I’M CHUGGING ALONG!_** ”

Her phone began to sing in her phone and Stiles bust out laughing.

“I’m going to murder you.”

Stiles flopped back on the ground hard, unable to contain his laughter as Cora pulled the phone from her pocket. Derek’s ID waited on her screen, and Cora groaned. She swiped to answer the call.

“Hello,” she said. She couldn’t keep the grumble out of her voice.

“You alright?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, my boyfriend is a dick, that’s all,” she replied. “What’s up?”

“There’s a log in Mom’s journal that I think might help you guys out. You should come to the loft as soon as you can.”


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles pulled open the door to the loft ahead of Cora and waited for her to pass before stepping in behind her. Cora found Derek sitting on the couch with one of Talia’s many journals that had been stored in the vault underneath the school. Cora would find Derek in this position, a book in his lap, his feet up on the coffee table most days when she came home, and it always brought her back to when she was a kid, before the fire.

Derek would sit on the couch with his homework, a baseball game playing in the background, and Cora would sit on his feet or beside his legs, doing whatever work her primary school teacher had assigned her that day. Derek had been Cora’s hero when she was a kid, her older brother indestructible from what she could tell. He was a cool kid, popular, and sure of himself. She had wanted to be just like him when she grew up.

She liked to think that she grew up to be worthy of being Derek Hale’s kid sister.

“So, that’s one of Alpha Hale’s famous journals?” Stiles asked while Cora flopped into the seat beside her brother. Stiles, who couldn’t sit still on the best of days, took to leaning against the desk, the angle awkward in his shorter frame.

“How do you know about them?” Derek asked, his thick eyebrows furrowing to show his confusion.

“Cora is mouthy,” Stiles answered. Cora smiled guiltily. “Besides, it’s not like I could do anything with that information anyway. If they’re not with you or her, they’re in the vault, right? And only you, Cora, or Malia can get to them.”

Derek seemed to think this over, find it fair, and nodded.

“So what’s in Mom’s journal?” Cora asked, distracting the two before they got into an argument. They were uneasy acquaintances, they got along until suddenly they didn’t. She could never time when the shoe would drop and their attitudes towards each other would flip like a switch. She just tried to keep between them so they didn’t rip each other apart. When she first came back to find Derek, she thought Stiles and Derek were on the edge of becoming something, something that included less clothing and more angry, turned-on growling.

She was glad it didn’t turn out that way, especially since Cora had wanted to have something with Stiles that included less clothing and more turned-on growling.

“There’s a passage where she and Peter were less than nice to a coven of witches,” he said with a laugh.

“She and Peter, or just Peter?” Cora asked.

“Just Peter, but Mom apparently wasn’t of much help,” Derek answered. “Anyway, they offended this coven and got themselves cursed just like you two. They weren’t gender-swapped, or whatever, but they did find themselves at the end of-“

Derek paused to snort to himself.

“They couldn’t speak unless it was to say something nice.”

It was Stiles’ turn to snort.

“Peter couldn’t say anything, could he?”

“Not according to Mom. The only thing he could say was hello, and even that wasn’t always the case,” Derek said, enjoying this almost too much. “Mom wasn’t even Alpha yet. They were just kids, barely older than you guys are. She and Peter were walking through the Preserve, and came across this coven that hadn’t announced their presence to Grandma. Peter said something nasty, Mom laughed, and they were cursed by this coven leader who didn’t think teenage werewolves should be let off their leashes.”

“What happened?” Cora asked, leaning over his shoulder to read Talia’s entry. On rough days, she curled up in her room with her mother’s journals and just fell asleep with her mother’s words running through her mind.

“Apparently, Grandma and Grandpa wanted to keep the curse, since it was the longest they’d gone without fighting since Peter learned to talk. But their teachers started to get worried that Peter wasn’t feeling alright, since he hadn’t been dragged to the principal’s office in a few weeks.”

“How’d they reverse it?” Stiles asked, awkwardly crossing his arms over his chest, then uncrossing them.

“Grandma tracked down the coven, put the fear of the Gods into them, and _voila_ , they were back to their ever-bickering selves.”

“We don’t have a strong Hale alpha to put the fear of the Gods into them, though,” Cora reminded him. “And we don’t know how to track them down.”

Derek shrugged and said, “That’s not the point, Cora. It is reversible. And we have resources that will get us their location if we reach out to them.”

“When did you become the optimist, Derek?” Stiles asked.

“This is one of the funniest situations that anyone has found themselves in since the fire,” he replied. “Neither of you are hurt, or dead, nor has anyone tried killing us in months. I’d say that’s something to be optimistic about.”

Cora sighed and rested her head on Derek’s shoulder. She let her eyes close and found herself falling asleep nestled against her brother’s warm body that radiated _familiarity_ and _pack_.

-&-

Stiles woke her up from a long nap against Derek to lead her into bed, kiss her goodnight, and promise to come pick her up for their weekly date the next day. Cora snuggled into her own bed, and let herself dream.

She dreamt of her mother that night, young and full of smiles, with bright yellow beta eyes. She dreamt of Derek and Laura play-fighting on the full moon, sitting on her father’s feet with a cup of cocoa. She dreamt of the begrudging airplane rides that Peter used to give her, hoisting her up over his head and running at full speed around the yard while making propeller noises. She dreamt of their last full moon together, a warm summer night with a campfire billowing high into the sky. Cora had a marshmallow on a stick, the outer shell burning black while the inside melted deliciously. She had another argument with Laura about how to cook marshmallows, Laura claiming that lightly toasting them was the preferable method. Talia tousled Cora’s hair and kissed her on top of the head before rising, getting ready for the nightly run.

She dreamt of getting in the car to go to her friends’ birthday sleepover, barely saying goodbye before vaulting out of the car. She dreamt of the empty feeling in her chest as she woke up in the middle of the night, the feeling of pack missing from her.

She woke up in a cold sweat, and tried, and failed, to stop herself from crying herself back to sleep.

-&-

“Okay, no, but listen!” Stiles demanded with a big smile. “What if the Titanic only sank because of the weight of all the time travelers trying to stop it from sinking?”

“I don’t want to think about all of this,” Cora replied, shaking her head. “You’re making my head hurt, Stiles.”

“That’s a common side effect, but reall-”

“I’m going to punch you so hard that you’re going to get a headache, so we can share in this misery,” she said.

“God, you Hales are so violent,” Stiles joked. A waiter passed them by and gave them a funny look, but Cora rubbed her foot against Stiles’ leg to stop him from making a comment. Stiles’ eyes found her face, and there was this expression that he often got but Cora could never interpret. Whenever she would ask him about it, he would get this secretive smile, kiss her, and tell her he would tell her when he thought they were ready for that.

“What’s this face?” she asked him, gesturing towards him.

He grinned.

“I’m glad we’re going through this together.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that if there was anyone in the world that I would want to experience this odd body-swap thing with, then it would be you.”

“Even before Scott?”

“I would choose you over Scott any day.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Just don’t tell Scott that. He still thinks we would choose each other before our girlfriends. But there’s just something about you, Hale, that’s worth more than bros before hoes.”

“It’s the sex,” Cora assured him. He stuck his tongue out at her and she reciprocated the gesture.

“Maybe, but I’m serious. You’re pretty great, and I’m glad we’re in this together. I’m glad we can have this.”

Cora leaned over the table, and kissed him firmly.

“Aw, babe, you have a crush on me,” she teased.

“Of course, I have a crush on you, you egg,” Stiles laughed. “We’ve been dating for 11 months. At this point, I love you.”

Cora blushed and tipped her chin into her chest, trying to hide. She knew he loved her as he was very vocal about it, and she loved him back, but hearing it after all those years in a welcoming but not loving household still made Cora turn into a giggling schoolgirl.

“Lydia made me watch The Notebook with her a couple of times, after Jackson left for England. There’s this line, and what I take it to mean is that whatever you are, I want to be that too,” Stiles continued as if Cora wasn’t about to explode from happiness. The person she was when she had met Stiles probably would’ve thrown up at how cute they were being. That girl had been angry, and scared, and longed for her pack. This girl, the one sitting across from her boyfriend in a stranger’s body, wasn’t that angry anymore, and she wasn’t scared, and now she had that pack that she had desired for so long.

“Stiles,” she said slowly. She wanted to talk to him, but she felt weird out in the open here at the diner. This is their usual place, their usual table, their usual time, but she still felt like she was being watched. “Is your dad at work?”

“Yeah, until about ten, probably. Why? Do you have something in mind?”

His tone was innocent, mostly, but the glint in his eyes suggested something less than PG. Cora let out a small laugh.

“We can get to that, but mostly I want to talk about, you know, everything that’s happening, without any lingering ears.”

“Yeah, we’ll eat and head back to my place.”

As if waiting for her cue, their waitress swept back in, singing under her breath with the Frank Turner song playing above. She set Stiles’ burger and Cora’s omelet in front of each owner, smiled sweetly, and wished them a good meal before sweeping back out. Stiles shoved curly fries and large chunks of burger into his mouth like he was trying to win a game of Chubby Bunny, while Cora ate her omelet with considerable less vigor and watched the diners around them.

“You’re going to choke,” Cora warned him, which she did every time they ate together. “Slow down, you don’t have to worry about your food escaping.”

Stiles made a face at her, and continued without pausing. She rolled her eyes and found herself watching a small family of three, the parents barely older than her and Stiles with a toddler who sat in a highchair at the end of the table. The toddler was a little girl with blonde messy pigtails and some kind of mashed vegetable flung over her shirt and face.

“What are you smiling at?” Stiles asked, his mouth only half full.

“How do you feel family?”

“What do you mean?”

Cora thought for a moment, considering how to phrase her question best. “I can feel Derek, not all the time, but his presence is there. When I’m upset, feeling that link with him makes me feel better, feel calmer. Do you have something like that? With your father?”

Stiles shook his head and held up his finger while he finished chewing and swallowed.

“Nothing. Dad is my family, but we’re not pack, not supernaturally. It would be nice to have that presence there, knowing that my only family is still alive and well, but no. Humans just have to deal with the lack of knowledge and stay together anyway.”

Cora frowned. It didn’t seem right to her. Why should werewolves get pack connections and humans get nothing? Of course, werewolves were half lupine, and wolves were known for their familial bonds. But still, if anything, that familiar bond to loved ones might prevent parricide.

That hadn’t stopped Peter, but Peter had been driven mad living inside his own mind, though, so she’s not sure that he could be counted.

Families like the Stilinskis, two souls trying to hold to each other desperately in a sea that tried to pull them apart, deserved a pack bond.

“Hey, it’s okay. Humans have made it this long without a pack bond, and we’ll keep going long after this without one.”

Cora nodded and went back to her omelet.

“I have a question, though,” Stiles stated.

“What’s that?”

 “Can wolves feel the humans in their packs? You know, the same way you can feel the other werewolves.”

“Yes, and no. We can feel them, but it’s not as strong. It’s more like sensing a phantom, like something that’s almost there. We had a few humans in the pack when I lived in South America, and to me it kind of felt like seeing something in the corner of your eye, there but you can’t quite make it out. If I tried to focus on it, it would slip away. Humans aren’t born with that tether, so they get roped in by everyone else but they’re still adrift, kind of. If that makes sense.”

“I think so,” Stiles replied, nodding slowly. “I have another question.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just, this might be too forward, or you know, too soon or something. Hell, it might be even borderline inappropriate or against some kind of etiquette, but am I,” he started before he paused. “Am I pack?”

“Of course you are,” she replied easily. She reached out and took his hand in her own, squeezing it just enough to comfort him. “You are pack, Stiles. You have been pack since I came back and you saved my life.”

She couldn’t imagine answering that question any other way. She saw and spoke to Stiles more than she did her own brother. She would give her life to save him, just like she assumed he would her. Every quality that she knew made up a pack member, she could find in her relationship with Stiles.

And if she sat still, in the quiet, undisturbed by worry or responsibility, she could feel him at the edge of her periphery, his steady lifeline thrumming, just as Derek’s did.

-&-

Cora shifted in Stiles’ arms, her head cushioned against her boyfriend’s chest. He was playing with her hands, tracing them with the tip of his pointer finger.

“Hey, you wanted to talk about something earlier, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said, yawning. She reached over and turned the made-for-TV movie down. She shifted out of Stiles’ arms and moved herself to the other end of the couch. Stiles made a face at her but shifted so his back was against the arm of the couch. “Are you scared?”

“Do I smell scared or something?”

“No, that’s not- that’s not what I meant. I just, are you afraid that we’re not going to get turned back? If we can’t find the witch coven, or someone who has the power to switch us back, are you going to be okay?”

Stiles smiled.

“I don’t know what we would do if this thing doesn’t get fixed. I don’t know if we could go back to normal life or if we would have to change our identities. I don’t know, but I’m not scared. It would be inconvenient, and I don’t want to have a menstrual cycle, but it doesn’t scare me to face it, if that happens.”

“How can you be so calm about it? This is literally life-changing. This is magic deciding that your life needs to be more difficult.”

He shook his head.

“I was possessed by a demon fox spirit that killed a lot of people, including one of my best friends. On a list of things that have happened to me, being turned into a girl is one of the least bad things. Besides, you’re here with me.”

“You’re here with _me_ , but _I’m_ still scared.”

Stiles shuffled closer to her and flung his legs over hers.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be in control for the full moon. I don’t know if I’ll hurt you, or Derek, or any of the pack. I don’t know my strength in this body. I don’t _know_ anything, and it scares me.”

Stiles pressed a delicate kiss to her nose.

“Look, if we don’t fix this by the full moon, Derek can still handle you if you can’t control the shift, and the pack will be there to help you.”

“I could hurt you, though.”

“If it makes you feel better, I won’t be there. I’ll stay home. But, Cora, I don’t believe that you could hurt me. Ever.”

“Stiles,” she whined, shuffling her awkward frame forward to bury herself into him. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. You’re so strong, so much stronger than you believe, and you will be okay. You and I will make it through this, I promise. Even if we don’t, even if we’re stuck like this forever, we have each other. I will keep reminding you forever, if necessary. I will.”

They sat like that, Cora in Stiles’ lap with her head in his chest, for a while. The movie had reached its climax, the wife shouting at the top of her lungs at her cheating husband, throwing his clothing and their memorabilia from their time together at his head.

“We could travel,” Cora said.

“What?”

“If we don’t get switched back, we could go travelling the world. I have plenty of money, and we could just gas up the Jeep and go until the Jeep gives out. We could see the house that inspired Rose Red, and the world’s largest ball of twine, and the Rod Serling Museum. Hell, I could even take you to South America to meet my old pack, and if we ran out of money, we could just get jobs in some town and be brand new people.”

“What about Derek? And my dad? Scott?” he asked. “We can’t just leave, Cora. It sounds amazing to just pick up and run away with you, but we have family, pack, responsibilities here that we can’t just leave, no matter how tempting it is. Do you know how many times I wanted to just call it quits in the middle of all the bullshit, pack up all my friends in the Jeep, and get the fuck out of dodge? So many times, but we can’t just run from our problems.”

“Oh, but we can ignore them and pretend they’re not real until they go away?”

She couldn’t stop herself from snarking him. He was making too much sense and sounding too much like an adult, and she didn’t _want_ an adult response. She wanted her boyfriend to run away with her, see the world with her.

“Cora,” he sighed. He kissed her on the forehead and scratched with long fingernails at the nape of her neck. “When we’re back to our own bodies, we can take a road trip and see the world.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Cora pushed Stiles onto his back and then curled her body into his, closing her eyes and inhaling his familiar scent. It hadn’t changed, and that constant among the growing changes in her world lulled her to sleep in her boyfriend’s arms.

-&-

It was getting ridiculous. They just wanted to fuck. Really. That’s all they wanted. They wanted to strip down naked, do some rutting, and then lose their virginities to each other all over again. That’s all. That wasn’t even that much to ask. When they were in their usual bodies, with Cora with the girl parts and Stiles with the boy parts, they didn’t have any trouble finding a minute alone.

Cora wasn’t sure what it was, what cruel deity had cursed them to this fate, but she was sick of it. She just wanted to have sex with her boyfriend, but that seemed too much to ask. Every time they started, they would be interrupted.

Derek would call, or the Sheriff would come home, or Scott would show up unannounced. Even people that didn’t normally visit found a reason to come around. The entire universe was conspiring to collectively cock block them. They had gotten more surprise visits from solicitors and postage men in the following week than they had in the entire summer leading up to that week.

“I fucking swear,” Stiles growled, dragging himself away from kissing down Cora’s abs to the waistband of her boxers. He grabbed the ringing phone, and snapped a hello as he answered.

“What’s wrong with you?” Scott’s voice filtered in from the other end. Cora couldn’t stop the growl from escaping her chest, irritated by how turned on she was with no hope for relief.

“The world hates us. What’s up?”

“We’re all getting together for the afternoon, lunch and a movie, some mini golf, just pack things. We thought you two might want to get out of the house, have some fun.”

Cora dropped her head back against Stiles’ pillows, trying to ignore how hard her dick was in her shorts. She was an inch from Stiles getting to the good part, skin on skin, but that phone was going to be the death of her.

“It’s going on silent next time,” Cora informed him. “I’m going to take a cold shower.”

Scott snorted from the other side, clearly picking up on what he had interrupted.

“See you at the usual place, one hour. Don’t smell like sex when you show up.”

“Thanks, Scott,” Stiles deadpanned before ending the phone call. He rolled his eyes and looked at Cora.

“What’s the usual place?”

“Fork and Dagger, it’s on the edge of town. Scott and I used to ride our bikes out there to try and avoid my dad’s deputies. It didn’t work.”

Cora had to laugh, because of course they did.

“You know, you can shower with me, if you need. I wouldn’t be opposed to soaping you down.”

“We only have an hour,” he reminded her.

“Oh, please, like we haven’t done more with less,” she replied, pushing herself off the bed. “I remember one time we both got off in a janitor’s closet, between two periods.”

Stiles’ face busted out in a conspiratorial grin.

“To the shower, then, my dear!”

They left the phone on Stiles’ bed and bolted into the bathroom together. Cora shut and locked the door while Stiles started up the shower.

“God, I have been wanting to get you naked and alone since we were changed,” Stiles admitted. Cora pushed her body against Stiles’ back, pressing lingering kisses on his neck, tracing between the moles with her tongue, drawing constellations while Stiles adjusted the temperature of the water. “I swear, if someone interrupts us here, I’m quitting. We’re going to have to leave all technology behind, get into the car, and drive into the mountains.”

Cora laughed.

“Don’t worry, baby. The door is locked, the phone is in your room, and your dad is out with his academy buddies for another few hours. No one is taking you away from me this time.”

Stiles grinned and leaned forward, pulling his shirt up and off his body.

“Take off your clothes, Cora Hale.”

She dropped what was left of her clothing, her borrowed boxers falling to the ground. Stiles made a whining sound as he looked over his shoulder at her. He unbuttoned his jean shorts and let them fall, revealing what Cora already expected. He was not wearing any underwear, at all. She let out a small breath.

“In,” he stated, stepping into the shower and offering his hand to her. She stepped in with him and pressed him into the wall, leaning down and kissing him hard. He was soft under her hands, his stomach cushioned rather than toned, his breasts perky as she slipped her hand over them. His nipples were hard as she dragged her fingertips, touching and teasing. Stiles, however, wasn’t in the teasing mood. He moved her back into the spray of the water, and grabbed for the body wash. He left miniscule bruises on her collarbone as he slicked up his hand, and watched as they faded.

“Impatient, Stilinski?”

He didn’t answer as he wrapped his hand around her erection, letting her gasp speak for him.

“I’ve been thinking about how I would get you off,” Stiles said, the soap allowing Stiles’ hand to slip and slide easily. Cora whined and rested her head against the tile behind her, trying to keep her knees from buckling. She’d jerked Stiles off before, but she couldn’t believe how _good_ this felt. Stiles always whimpered and squirmed, begged for more. Over the past week, after Cora was left hard and aching without any relief, she waited until Derek was asleep and jerked herself off, but it didn’t feel like this.

“Fuck, Stiles,” she whimpered. Stiles’ hand was just perfect, twisting and thumbing the head of her dick right when she needed it. He had had years of perfecting his technique, albeit on himself, so it made sense he would be better than her at this. She wanted to ask how he came so easily when she touched him, when _this_ was what he could do to himself. All she could do was beg for more, which Stiles gave eagerly. He slid down to his knees in front of her, and Cora had to grip the shower head to keep from collapsing.

“I love you,” she blurted.

“Tell me that when we’re clothed and I’ll believe you,” Stiles replied. He let the shower spray rinse away the body wash from her dick, and from his hand before he rewrapped his hand around her. She watched, amazed, as Stiles dragged the flat of his tongue over the head of her dick slowly. She also couldn’t stop the sound of aroused distress that escaped her mouth. Stiles offered his free hand for her, and they held hands while Stiles wrapped his lips around her head and sucked earnestly.

And as if on the world’s cruelest cue, there was a loud, insistent knocking on the bathroom door.

Stiles pulled off with a pop, and called out, “What is it?”

“Pack’s downstairs, if you guys need to finish up. We have some news from Deaton!” Scott called. Cora growled. There was no way they could finish this with everyone downstairs, but Cora was so close to coming that no cold shower was going to fix this.

“Go to Deaton’s,” Stiles yelled. “We’ll meet you there.”

“No can do,” Scott replied.

“If you don’t clear out, I swear to god, Scott,” Stiles finally snapped. “Hop in the car and drive around for a while.”

Cora’s hips jerked unexpectedly, brushing her cock against Stiles’ lips and she couldn’t help the small, shaky moan that escaped her.

“Okay, guys,” she heard someone, she couldn’t make out who, say on the first floor. “Let’s give the kiddies their privacy. I really don’t need to hear them have sex.”

Thank god for whoever that was.

She tracked the pack leaving, and Scott following them down the stairs and out the door. She heard at least two cars start up, and drive away.

“Are they gone?” Stiles asked.

“Y-yeah, they are.”

Stiles wrapped his hand around the base of Cora’s cock and his mouth around the end, and Cora lost track of what was where because he was magic. Whatever he was doing was literal perfection. It was so good that Cora had a hard time believing that he hadn’t sucked cock before. Cora’s hand gripped his hair, and tried hard not to fuck into his mouth, especially watching him enthusiastically bobbing his head. His tongue did marvelous things, and his hand was a steady pressure.

Before she knew it, the orgasm had swelled low and hot inside her belly, and she tried to warn Stiles, but didn’t get the chance. It felt amazing, and weirdly different than her own orgasms as a female. It slammed through her and her fist clenched instinctively in Stiles’ hair, a loud moan drawing itself from her chest as she came.

 Stiles took it all in stride and swallowed what he could before he sat back, jerking her the rest of the way, little droplets of cum speckling his lips and cheeks.

“Jesus Christ,” Cora breathed, her chest heaving.

Stiles stood and kissed her slowly until her breath evened out, his hands stroking the sides of her face and her hair.

“How are you so good at that?” she asked, dropping her head to his collarbone.

“I just did what you do,” Stiles answered. “I learned from you.”

“Mmm, I’m really good, then.”

“Yeah, you see why I’m for quickies in the janitor’s closet,” he replied. They started kissing, and kept kissing, and the water began to run cold against them.

“Do you want me to,” she started and Stiles nodded excitedly. Cora laughed at his eagerness, and Stiles kissed her to shut her up. She turned them so Stiles was pressed into the tile, his wet hair sticking to the shower wall in a halo. She stood back and just looked at him, taking all of him in. He just looked so good, eyelashes dripping, his mouth swollen and hanging slightly open, his body flushed. He smelled even better, his scent full of arousal, and his skin heady with sweat and Cora’s own cum.

She skittered her fingers against his skin, drawing over his peaked nipples and down his soft belly. He shuddered against her, small noises coming from his mouth as her fingers dance down further.    

“Please,” Stiles pleaded. “Stop teasing.”

Cora leaned in and nipped at his jaw.

“Patience, padawan. I’ll take care of you.”

Stiles huffed unhappily while Cora bent over to kiss his nipple, his huff turning into a gasp. She held his hip in one hand and his breast in the other, kissing and sucking slowly. Stiles was loud during every day activities, and sex was no different. He whined, and begged, and pleaded, and moaned, and a variety of other noises that Cora loved.

“Cora,” he breathed. She dragged the flat of her tongue along Stiles’ nipple and nipped gently at it. Stiles started to pant, dropping his head back against the tile, his heart racing in his chest. Cora slipped her hand down and between his legs, teasing gently.

When Cora got herself off by herself, she was very to the point. She didn’t tease, or try to draw the experience out. She just wanted to get off and go to sleep. But when Stiles was with her, he drew it out, pulled her to the edge over and over before finally letting her go, and she _loved_ it. She loved the teetering between the build and the actual orgasm, even if it reduced her to a sobbing, begging mess. She didn’t beg for anyone. She begged for Stiles, though.

She wanted to make Stiles beg for it, although that was not that hard to accomplish. When Stiles wanted something, he made it known, loudly and often.

She didn’t want to just mimic what he did for her, normally. She just wanted to use the same skills, but as she’d never practiced on herself, she hoped Stiles would provide her a grace period to acquaint herself.

Cora rubbed Stiles’ thigh, and then slipped one finger lightly against Stiles’ clit.

“What do you want, Stiles?” she asked after Stiles made a broken sound.

“Is that what this feels like? When I-”

Cora grinned and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“How do you last as long as you do?” he asked, genuinely curious. She kissed the upturn of his nose.

“You’ll see.”

She pushed another fingers into Stiles’ wetness, smirking as she kissed him slowly. She rubbed slowly around his clit, her free hand dragging up and down his side. She left a trail of wet kisses down his neck and sucked at the hollow of his throat while she circled her fingers delicately. His clit was swollen and ready beneath her fingers, and his hips moved with her strokes, following as if to keep her fingers on his clit.

“I love you,” Stiles blurted.

“Tell me when we’re clothed, and I’ll believe you,” she replied with a grin.

“Fuck you,” he moaned, although he was smiling.

Cora abandoned his clit to slide two of her fingers into him, curling them before stretching them slightly. He was so wet and ready that Cora wanted to just sink to her knees and taste him, but she kept herself standing. He whined and pushed his body up against her, small noises coming from his open mouth.

“Yeeeeeees,” Stiles whimpered. “Fuck, yes.”

Cora pushed her fingers deeper into him, and then used her thumb to rub his clit slowly in lazy circles. She kissed him to shut him up, running her tongue along his. He still managed to make noise, moaning and groaning into their kiss, his hands roaming up and down Cora’s arms and back, trying to find something to hang onto.

The water was cold against them when Stiles’ moans grew more and more insistent. His hips couldn’t stay still, pressing between Cora’s hands and pulling away to the tiles. He broke the kiss in order to press his open mouth to her shoulder and just let out a sound that Cora couldn’t describe even if she knew a hundred languages. It just was this sound of contentment and pleasure, and it sent chills down Cora’s spine.

Even when Stiles was a guy and on the edge of coming, he never made a sound like that.

“Fuck, you sound so good,” Cora whimpered. “Are you gonna come for me?”

 “Oh, oh, oh, f- _fuck_! Fuck me, god, Cora, h- oh,” Stiles stuttered. Cora watched in fascination as Stiles’ body shook against her own, and sped up her thumb, fingering her boyfriend quickly. “I’m gon-”

Before he could finish, his words cut off into a long, wordless moan while he came, hard and continuous against her hand. He practically gushed, and Cora helped him ride it out with slow strokes.

He took long, deep breaths, his eyes closed against her shoulder. Cora pulled her fingers out of him and sucked them clean before stroking down his back.

“How did- God, that was good. I don’t want to have my dick back. I’ll just be a girl for the rest of my life. I’m for it.”

“You’ll change your mind when you’re doubled over in pain from menstrual cramps and have to shove a tampon up your vagina every month.”

Stiles laughed and muttered, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Cora kissed him on the cheek as he got himself together.

“It’s cold in here,” he said, tipping his head into the chilled spray of the water. “We should get out before my new body gets hypothermia.”

Cora hadn’t thought of that, as she reached out and shut the water off. She wrapped her warm body around Stiles’ and walked them carefully out of the tub.

“Come on, babe. Let’s get ready.”

“Do we smell like sex?” he asked while Cora found him a towel and wrapped it up around him. She dragged her nose along his skin, inhaling his and her scent mingled there.

“Yes. Like we live in a whore house.”

“Good,” he said with a goofy smile on his stupid face. “I love you.”

“You’re still not dressed,” she reminded him.

“I’m in a towel. You’re the one who’s not dressed.”

-&-

Cora smoothed down Stiles’ mostly damp hair and climbed out of the Jeep, heading towards the clinic where the pack was already parked and waiting for them to show up.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Lydia said, her voice even and unimpressed. “Did you enjoy your little tryst while the rest of us were trying to figure out how to fix the mess you got yourself in?”

“Be grateful that you guys never believe me, or else we’d all be in this together,” Stiles replied, practically glowing still from orgasm. He would glow like that for the rest of the day, in Cora’s experience. It wasn’t as irritating if you’d been the one to give him the orgasm, she’d also found. “Besides, you’re just standing outside the clinic like useless pieces of junk.”

He said it with a smile, but Cora could see the last of Lydia’s patience fall away.

“Okay, come on, kiddies. Inside,” Cora ushered them forward. “I would like to get my boyfriend home in one piece.”

“What? I could take Lydia,” Stiles tried but everyone in the pack shook their head.

“No, you can’t, babe,” Cora assured him. “I can barely take Lydia now, and I’m a werewolf. Just chill before she beats your ass.”

Stiles shrugged and pulled Cora by the hand into the clinic before anyone else.

“You’re going to get yourself punched before we switch back, you know,” Cora told him. “And honestly, I’m going to let them.”

“What? Why? What did I do?”

“You’re so smug when you get off. I’m surprised you haven’t ended up with more black eyes.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re mind-blowing,” Stiles said, eyebrows dancing suggestively. Cora rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully into the exam room at the back of the clinic. “What’s up, Doc!”

Cora didn’t hear as much as felt Deaton’s immediate annoyance. She trailed her fingers down his back and edged him easily to the side of the room while the rest of the pack trickled in.

“Hello Stiles,” Deaton said. “I see you’re feeling better.”

“Much! Thank you!”

The doctor went back to whatever hoodoo he was working on, while the pack settled into their usual places around the clinic. Stiles tucked himself under Cora’s arm, and surveyed the pack like he was the happiest he could ever be. She tugged on the perfect end of his hair, not frayed or split, perfect like he’d just cut it. It was odd because Cora’s hair was exactly the same way, even though they had been in these bodies for over a week.

Magic was weird.

“So, what’s the sitch, boss? How do we Katie Kazoo Switcheroo us back?” Stiles asked. Almost everyone in the clinic exam room rolled their eyes at him, except Scott who snorted.

“That’s the worst reference you’ve ever made, Stiles,” Scott assured his best friend. Stiles shrugged.

“Worth it, though. I thought that up a few days ago, and I’ve just been sitting on it, waiting for the perfect time to use it.”

“Anyway,” Deaton said. “I was looking into a few reversals for spells with similar results, and even for some simple fix-it spells, which are handy when you’ve got children playing with magic that they shouldn’t be handling.”

He gave Stiles a significant look.

“Malia was there, too!” Stiles yelped.

“You were the one tossing the fireballs around, bro,” Scott reminded him.

“The point is, while looking, I came across this,” Deaton stated, plucking an old, faded post-it note from one of the ancient tomes.

“What is it?” Stiles asked.

“It’s a post-it, dumbass,” Lydia snapped.

“Yeah, I figured that one out. I meant what’s on it.”

Deaton waited, patiently, before he continued.

“It’s a phone number to the head of the coven that passes through Beacon Hills every so of-”

“You have her number? Are you kidding me?” Cora asked. “So you can just call her up and ask her politely to turn us back to our assigned sexes, please and thank you? That’s the least believable way to fix this!”

“Don’t anger the shaman, dear. He might delete the nice witch’s number and we’ll be stuck like this forever.”

“The problem is that, even after I asked her politely, please and thank you, to return you to your original state, she believes that you two have not completed your penance.”

“What penance?” Scott asked before Stiles or Cora could explode with protests.

“She thinks that some of the things that Stiles said were, at best, ignorant, and that he would do best to walk a mile in her shoes,” Deaton explained. “So to speak.”

“And what did I do? I didn’t make any comments towards her or the rest of the coven!”

“You’re Talia’s daughter, and Peter’s niece. She remembers your family, and she is not a fan of the Hale line. Your situation was because she wanted to have a little fun. She said that at the end of the month, you will be returned to your rightful bodies, and she will consider your comments wiped away.”

“End of the month? Why the end of the month?” Scott asked.

Cora heard Lydia, Malia, and Kira all snicker, attempting to hide the sounds under their breath, while Stiles and Scott looked at them bewildered.

“What? I don’t get it.”

“Oh, babe. You poor thing.”

“What?! What is it?”

“You have to have your period before she’ll turn you back.”

-&-

Liam, at the next pack meeting a few days later, kept eying Stiles, his eyes drifting down his form like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to eat him or mount him. Cora couldn’t help but find this absolutely hilarious, especially given the fact that they had, at best, an antagonistic relationship.

However, Liam’s scent flickered with arousal after Stiles dropped something and had to lean over to get it, his cleavage falling forward and nearly out of the tank top.

“Dunbar! Eyes off my boyfriend!” Cora snapped.

She wasn’t in the best of moods because Stiles had been downright cranky since finding out his cure lay on the other side of the Red Sea. Little things set him off, which irritated her and made little things set her off, and it was a very vicious cycle. She couldn’t wait to see how he reacted to his hormones changing, and his mood swinging, and his belly bloating, and everything near his uterus not just hurting but aching and throbbing and twisting inside of him.

She actually felt kind of bad for him.

“Sorry,” Liam muttered, ducking his head and the tips of his ears tingeing pink. Stiles snapped up and covered his chest protectively, which only really served to push his cleavage up more, but Cora didn’t say anything.

“Do not objectify me, Liam!”

“I-I-I didn’t! I swear!”

“Women are not here for you to ogle at, Liam Matthew!” Stiles scolded, sticking a finger right in the beta’s face.

“I know!”

“Good!”

He stepped back and pat Liam reassuringly, or condescendingly- Cora couldn’t be sure- on the head.

“It’s really not his fault,” Derek decided to pipe up from somewhere near the back of the loft. He hadn’t ever technically allowed them to use the loft as a pack commons, but he hadn’t ever technically thrown them out, so Cora assumed it was okay. It would have to be, at least. It was the only place big enough for the growing pack anyway. “You’re wearing a really low cut top and a severely push-up bra.”

“Are you saying it’s my fault that Liam can’t keep his eyes to himself? If he were looking at Cora like that, would you stand for it?”

 “Why do I bother?” Derek sighed

“Okay, easy, down boy,” Cora said softly, easing Stiles back into the couch beside her. She breathed him in slowly, documenting his scent layer by layer in her mind. You couldn’t smell hormones like chemosignals, but there was a subtle scent a woman gave off when she was ovulating, which was a good indicator. “Oh, we need to get you some pads and Midol soon.”

He whined, high-pitched in his throat.

“Let’s not.”

“Well, that’s fine, but all I have in my bag is tampons, so if you want to shove one of those up there, be my guest.”

Stiles scrunched up his face in disgust but nodded.

“We’ll get some on the way home.”

“You two should really just move in together,” Malia stated from where she was curled up next to Kira.

“Malia, remember that talk we had about not saying everything you think?” Kira asked her gently, brushing her girlfriend’s hair back from her face. “Remember your filter?”

“What’s so wrong with what I said? They practically live with each other anyway. When was the last time you two spent a night apart?”

Cora paused and thought about it. She looked at Stiles who shrugged.

“Since before school let out, I think. Maybe?”

“May, I think,” Cora said.

“It’s July, so you haven’t gone a day without seeing each other, and a night without sleeping next to each other. You’re even going to schools in the same city. Just get an apartment so we don’t have to see your overwhelmingly disgusting happiness in more than one place.”

“Okay, she has a point,” Kira said, nodding along with her girlfriend.

“You two _are_ disgusting,” Scott agreed, and the rest of the pack agreed.

“I’m sorry our happiness offends you,” Stiles snipped.

“We’re not offended, Stiles. I’m glad that you and Cora are so happy together, personally, especially after the shit we’ve gone through. You deserve nothing less,” Scott said, leaning towards them from the recliner. “You went through hell this last year. We all did. We deserve some happiness, disgusting or not.”

-&-

Stiles held Cora’s hand tightly like he was scared she was going to float away from him. She tugged him into the drugstore, and led him slowly into the aisle with the feminine hygiene products.

“Look, you buy mine all the time,” she said softly. “You’re not ashamed to buy those.”

“Yeah, but no one thinks I’m on my period those times! They’re gonna know.”

“And?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not. So what if you’re bleeding out of your vagina? That’s the toughest thing someone can do, bleed like it’s not happening, and work through the pain of cramps without complaining! You should be in awe of women, and in awe of yourself as you go through it. Do you know what cramps are?”

“Pure evil, from what you tell me.”

“Cramps are what happens when your hips contract small amounts, preparing your body for labor. Every month, a woman goes through a week of mini labor. If that’s not badass and completely metal, I don’t know what is. Now, suck it up, buttercup.”

She stood him in front of the wall of pads and tampons, and he stared up at them in terror.

“Look, you need one package of standard pads, and a bottle of Midol,” Cora said patiently. “You can do it.”

“Cora, I don’t want to.”

“You are being such a baby. You have been through so much worse than buying pads, now grab a package, so we can go home.”

He whined as he inspected the packages and settled on Always Infinity, grabbing a medium size box.

“Make sure it has wings.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

He looked over the box and nodded.

“Can we go?”

“Midol, babe. You’ll want it.”

“Why? You can draw my pain, if I have any.”

“You’ll have some, and it won’t be pleasant. And I won’t be around you all the time.”

“Yes, you will.”

She grabbed a box of Midol, and dragged him to the counter where an older woman yawned and pushed hair away from her face. She smiled tiredly at them.

“It’s always good to see a man helping out his girlfriend,” she said, as Cora handed over her debit card before Stiles could dig his wallet out of his small pockets. She was rejoiced to see Stiles deal with women’s fashion, with tiny pockets and see-through shirts.

“Yeah, anything for my girl.”

Stiles subtly sneered at her as the cashier bagged the items and handed them back the receipt.

“Have a good day, then, you two. And you hold tight to that boy, sweetheart. He’s a keeper.”

Stiles looked up at Cora and smiled.

“Yeah, he is pretty great, isn’t he?”

-&-

The Sheriff called out a goodnight as he left the house heading for the station, just as Cora pushed Stiles onto his back. He whimpered as her body covered his, her hips grinding the front of her boxers, and her erection, right into him.

“Finally,” Stiles sighed. “I’ve been waiting to get you naked and on top of me since we got off in the shower.”

“You always want me naked and on top of you.”

“You’re always really hot when you’re naked and on top of me.”

She couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, and pressed her lips into his sloppily. She rolled her body against his, the way he did with her every time and drove her _crazy_. When he wasn’t being a spaz while dancing, he could actually move his body. She’d seen his body roll that nearly brought her to her knees with want, and desire. She had almost dragged him off the dancefloor and pushed him into the wall.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Stilinski,” she said, kissing him.

“Mmm, I love you.”

She sat back on her knees and pulled her shirt up over her head. Stiles’ fingers danced along her abdomen and to her boxers.

“These gotta go.”

“Consider them gone,” she said, shimming them off and tossing them away.

“I never knew how deep my bisexuality went until I met you in this body,” Stiles confessed.

Cora kissed him quiet, and worked his bra off while doing it. She was nothing if not efficient. She toyed with Stiles’ nipple with one hand while the other went to his underwear, sliding past the elastic without protest. Stiles couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to squirm away or closer to Cora as she rubbed casually at his clit.

They had tried to get off together since the shower, but the Sheriff was always home, and they were busy having plans with the pack most days. Scott wanted to make the most of their time together before they all went in different directions for college. Cora knew that Stiles had been concerned about the pack splitting up and losing touch, especially when Lydia had been accepted to MIT, and both Kira and Malia had been accepted to colleges nearby, while Scott, Cora, and Stiles all were going to different schools in Southern California, and Liam having to stay here for a few more years. They were trying to make memories while they were still in the same city, and Cora could begrudgingly accept that. Except, Cora wanted a few hours alone with her boyfriend.

Finally, though, they had begged off of bonding time, and the Sheriff had been called in due to a rash of break-ins, and they were home alone. Cora had been waiting for this.

“Do you still have that stash of condoms?” she asked, finally breaking the kiss for breath.

“Yeah, drawer, underneath the-”

“The Batman comics, I know.”

He smirked. She dragged his underwear down off his hips and they joined the rest of their clothes, and there they would remain for the rest of the evening. She ran her fingertips over his skin reverently, watching him and soaking in every bit of him.

She remembered the way he had touched her for the first time, skirting barely-there touches like he was afraid to press too hard, afraid she would be scared away.

“I don’t want to rush you, but we don’t know when someone’s going to interrupt us,” Stiles gasped out as Cora edged open his thighs and dragged her fingers through the wet heat pooled there.

“I want to take my time with you, Stilinski. It is your first time, after all.”

Stiles let out a breath of air while Cora leaned over him to grab a condom from the drawer. She, in theory, wanted to take her time, but she knew that once she got anywhere near Stiles, it wasn’t going to last long for her. Her goal was just lasting long enough to get Stiles off; that was it.

She rubbed at Stiles’ clit distractedly, trying to hold the condom and open it in the same hand. That is, until he took it from her and made quick work of it. He kissed her while sliding the condom onto her with ease.

“God, you’re hot,” she whispered against his mouth. “Like, truly, and blisteringly hot.”

“Cora, shut up and fuck me already.”

She nodded hurriedly and pulled her fingers away to settle between Stiles’ thighs. She held her cock steady and pressed the head of it against Stiles’ hole.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes. Please.”

She eased in, moving slowly. He was hot around her, with silky wetness welcoming her.

“You okay?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Keep going.”

Cora kept sliding in until she was completely inside of him. She dropped onto her elbows over him and kissed him slowly, brushing hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear. She waited, peppered tiny kisses over his face, touching each mole and freckle there.

“Okay, I think I’m good. You can, you can move.”

Cora started, as requested, pulling out and then pushing back in.

“I’m not a piece of china, you know,” Stiles said. “You can be a little less ginger with me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cora replied.

“You’re not going to hurt me. Trust me. Okay?”

She nodded, although she wasn’t so sure.

“Promise me you’ll stop me, though, if I do.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” he assured her. “Okay?”

Cora moved a bit harder, a bit faster, and she was rewarded with Stiles’ mouth falling open and letting out a quiet moan. The heat surrounding her cock was enough to make her weep with pleasure, so she had to keep herself focused on Stiles, on making Stiles feel just as good as she felt. She focused on her thrusts, on changing the angle to find that spot she knew was there. It wasn’t as easy as finding it with her fingers, from experience with a vibrator and with Stiles.

She seemed to find it, though. Stiles arched up off his bed with an explicitly charged moan, trying to press his body up and down at the same time.

“More. That. There.”

She nuzzled into his throat and nipped at his pulse pounding hard against his skin. His heartbeat was fast, speeding up as she slammed harder into him, gripping his hips to keep him in place.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” he whimpered.

“We tried, remember? The damn pack kept getting in the way.”

“Right. Remind me to return their Christmas gifts.”

She laughed as she moved one hand to his clit, while the other held herself off of him. She didn’t want to squish him to death in the middle of sex. That would be awkward to explain to the paramedics, and his father.

One of her packmates in South America always said, “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want to explain to the paramedics.” It was good advice, though.

“Fuuuck,” he whimpered.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured into his skin. “I’ve got you, babe.”

“Yeah?” he asked, head thrown back as Cora fucked him into the mattress, the frame giving out tiny squeaks with each movement that were drowned out by Stiles’ moaning and whining.

“You going to come apart for me?”

“Yeah!”

She hummed contentedly into his neck and matched her massaging his clit to the rhythm of her thrusts, watching as he started to squirm more and more, his hands not knowing where to go, her hair or to scratch down her back. She could feel her own orgasm building, but she tried to ignore it as she worked Stiles slowly through his own. She drew her name into Stiles’ clit, delicate with each letter, **C-O-R-A-D-A-I-S-Y-H-A-L-E** , until he was cursing and crying out her name, his body bowing up from the bed and shaking against her, his breathing ragged as he clenched around her dick.

That was the final straw for her, and her orgasm hit her like a train, a ragged moan over her own echoing in the quiet of his room. Her arms shook as she tried to keep herself upright. Stiles looked blissed out, like he’d seen God in that orgasm, his eyes half shut and his breathing beginning to even out. She reluctantly pulled her cock out of her boyfriend, and tugged the condom off. She disposed of it, and then flopped into the bed next to Stiles, sleep already starting to drag at her.

“That was damn good,” she muttered.

“That was more than damn good. That was spectacular.”

“Beautiful.”

“Wonderful.”

“Fantastic.”

“Amazing.”

“Stunning.”

“Great.”

“Marvelous.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Inconceivable,” Cora finally muttered, her voice half-slur.

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

They busted up laughing, holding tight to one another.

“I love you,” Cora said after they had settled down a few minutes later.

“I know.”

-&-

Stiles’ period came in the middle of the night a week and a half later, while he and Cora slept. Cora woke to the heavy scent of blood, and Stiles whining as he tried to curl himself into a ball.

“Noooo,” he whined. “I was hoping this wouldn’t happen.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay, I promise.”

Cora wiggled her hand down to Stiles’ stomach and pressed lightly against his skin. She pulled at the ache there, dragging it through her. Stiles relaxed against her, letting out a small sigh.

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a lot, but-”

“It’s enough,” Stiles replied. “I think I wet the bed, though.”

Cora looked down and chuckled.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

She helped them out of bed and then led them to the bathroom to clean up. Cora started up the shower nice and warm, and Stiles stepped in while Cora got out a pad from below the sink for after. Cora joined him in the spray, and kissed him on the shoulder.

“I’ll have the change the sheets. I haven’t had to do that in the middle of the night for years.”

Cora chuckled.

“You just get dressed when you’re done, I’ll worry about the sheets.”

“You’re so good to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Stiles finished washing while Cora stepped out and wrapped the towel around her waist, returning to change the sheets. When she returned from starting the sheets and blankets in a load of wash, she found Stiles curled up on the new sheets, a blanket pulled up over him. She sat down next to him.

“You okay?”

“How do you function?”

“When I’m on my period?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know,” Cora said. “You’re expected to. You don’t get to call in sick on account of bleeding out of your vagina every month. You are expected to get out of bed, shower, and act as if everything is okay.”

“I’m giving you a pass for the rest of our lives. You want me to call you in, I’ll do it.”

“It’s okay, babe. I’ve had six and a half years of this. I can handle myself. But, thank you.”

She curled up next to him, pulling him into her. They normally slept the other way with Cora’s back to Stiles, but Cora was willing to spend one week of nights like this. It felt good, anyway, to hold her boyfriend and let him snuggle back into her as needed.

Cora fell asleep easily, breathing in Stiles’ scent as he also drifted to sleep.

-&-

“You’re really crabby today,” Malia told Stiles while Cora made lunch for the three of them at the loft.

“Shut up,” Stiles grumbled, curling into himself on the couch, turning back to the episode of Caprica he had forced them to watch. Cora personally had seen Caprica, and every reboot of Battlestar Galactica that was available at least two or three times, but science fiction made Stiles feel better when he was sick or upset, so she would sit through it until she could recite the words along with the characters.  

“Very crabby,” Malia said to Cora instead.

“Leave him alone,” Cora replied.

“What are you going to do if I don’t, cousin?”

“Well, _cousin_ , that’s not a question you want me to answer,” Cora snapped.

“Behave you two, please. I don’t have the energy or the patience to break up a were-fight,” Stiles said, a vague begging in his voice. “Where’s Kira today?”

“She’s training with Noshiko,” Malia said. “Do you think you can beat me, Cora?”

“Of course, I can,” Cora said, flipping the sandwiches.

“Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

“I whoop your ass every training session, and I’m hardly even trying then, so don’t test me, Malia.”

“So, Kira’s still learning to control the fox part of her?” Stiles asked. Cora could see what he was trying to do.

“Yeah, she struggles with it sometimes, so her and her mother go out and train every couple of weeks in order to keep Kira in control.”

Cora could see the thought of Kira had calmed Malia, and she wondered if Stiles did the same for her.

“How’s she going to do that when you guys move in to school?”

“Noshiko and Kira are going to meet up once a month unless Kira needs more,” Malia said.

“Are you two getting an apartment together?”

“No, we’re housing on-campus, and we haven’t been together for long enough.”

Stiles nodded as Cora decided their sandwiches were ready, and flicked off the burner. She got down three plates and set a sandwich on each. She carried them all out into the main part of the loft, and handed one to Malia, and then to Stiles. She sank beside her boyfriend and let him huddle into her while he ate carefully.

“I feel bloated,” Stiles complained some time later, after Malia had said goodbye and went to meet up with Kira for a date. “I don’t like it. I didn’t eat that much.”

“It’s not what you ate, babe.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh,” Stiles moaned, dropping his head backwards on the couch. “How long does this usually last?”

“Bloating specifically?”

“No, the whole thing.”

“Depends. Some girls get lucky and only have three days, while others have seven or more days.”

He made another low moaning noise, sounding much like a cow mooing.

“It’s okay,” she said, stroking her hand through his hair and using the other to sap his pain slowly. His, like most, cramps came in waves, and he seemed to be at low tide at that moment, but she liked to keep an eye on him.

“You don’t have to take care of me like this,” Stiles said, looking at her instead of the season finale of Caprica. “I know I’m a pain in the ass, and you probably have better things to do than take care of me while I’m whiny.”

“I don’t, I really don’t have anything better to do. This is literally what you and I normally do most days, so I’m in no rush. Besides, it’s not like I don’t like spending time with you, Stiles. It’s not like, oh, I can’t fuck you right now, I’m gonna peace.”

Cora remembered Stiles saying those words to her when they first started dating. She was miserable and grumpy from her period, and Stiles had brought her whatever she wanted, and she had asked him why he stuck around if she was so awful to be around, as her brother had so lovingly pointed out before leaving the loft.

Stiles smiled and reached for the controller as the episode ended.

“I’m with you, you know,” Stiles had said that night almost a year ago. “I know we just started _this_ and it might be too soon for grand declarations, but I’m here, and you can’t get rid of me. I don’t care what tries to push us apart, I will be here. I promise.”

She had practically glowed with the announcement for days to come because she didn’t enter relationships lightly. It had taken her almost a year just to get close enough to Stiles to allow him in, to be in this relationship with him.

“I’m with you, Stiles,” Cora said, then, looking at her boyfriend in this unfamiliar body, and smiled. It wasn’t a grand declaration, not by any means, but it was enough. One of the conditions that they both had set, having little to no relationship experience themselves, was that they both had to be there, had to try, even if they fucked up. They had to give their all, and not disappear on the other, just because they were unsure or felt awkward. They had to talk to one another.

So far, they had had a few fights, one rather explosive that lasted a week and a half and was only fixed when Lydia and Derek forced them to sit down and talk it out, the rest petty spats when one of them was in a bad mood or something equally trivial. Those they usually solved by throwing something at the other, or Stiles being an overall doofus, trying to make the other laugh.

They worked, somehow. Cora hadn’t had much hope in their relationship, hadn’t been convinced that they could get along, but somehow, they did. They were both strong-willed, smart-mouthed, and she would admit it, prone to violence as the answer to all their problems. That was the thing, though, they were a lot alike and that similarity led to them gravitating towards each other. Cora understood Stiles’ sarcastic humor, and Stiles in turn appreciated Cora’s dry wit, and they complemented each other in this weird, snarky way.

Derek had warned her that they were fire and gasoline, too similar to work, that they would explode, and Cora would get hurt, but they hadn’t. They fit together perfectly, less like fire and gasoline, and more like, cliché as it is, peanut butter and jelly. Although, neither of them liked jelly, so they were more like peanut butter with more peanut butter.

She rested her head on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Good,” he muttered, and she realized he was falling asleep. “I’d be lost without you.”

She let out a snort of air that wasn’t quite laughing but it wasn’t just breathing either.

“You’re lost with me, too,” she said.

“Yeah, but I’m lost _with_ you, which is cool.”

She kissed his temple.

“Take a nap, babe.”

“Mmmkay,” he hummed, and before she could say anything else, he had in fact drifted off to sleep.

 -&-

“I think it’s over,” Stiles whispered a few days later, pulling out the front of his underwear as they lay in his bed and checking. “I don’t think I’m on my period anymore.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Cora mumbled, ducking her head underneath the pillow, wedging herself into him.

“What? What do you mean by that? Is it going to _come back_?”

His voice squeaked, high-pitched like she imagined a mouse might talk.

“It might.”

“You had better not be fucking with me, Cora Daisy!”

She raised her head, and her eyebrows with it.

“Don’t you bring out the middle name on me, Maczysz,” she said, and she was halfway sure she had just slaughtered his name entirely. She was also halfway sure that not even Stiles could pronounce it correctly, considering he’d gone by _Stiles_ for most of his life.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and his nostrils flared a tiny bit.

“You promised you wouldn’t use that name,” he said.

“Hey, you pull out my middle name, and you give me permission to use your first name. We also promised that, remember?”

“There’s nothing shameful about the middle name Daisy.”

“I’m going to punch you.”

“What? There isn’t! It’s cute! I like it! Cora Daisy Hale, I’ll scribble it on all of my notebooks during class and put little hearts around it,” he said. She shoved him hard, forgetting her strength, and then had to dive forward to grab him. “I show you affection and you shove me off my own bed, real cool.”

“Oh, shut it, Stilinski,” she said, sitting up and stretching.

He plopped his head in her lap and let out a sleepy sigh.

“No, if I’m up, you’re up, and as you decided to instigate this fight that led to a heart attack, you definitely have to be up, too.”

Stiles whined as Cora shifted from under him, letting his head fall to the mattress with a soft _thunk_. She ambled out of bed, and stretched towards the ceiling, hearing the little pops of joints in disuse awaken as she went, then pulled up the shades to let the midmorning sunlight light up the darkened room. Stiles let out a hiss like he was being burned by it.

“Why?”

“I already told you why. Now, get up, because if you truly are off your period, this is our last chance to have sex in these bodies,” she said, grabbing their towels off the back of Stiles’ desk chair and heading towards the bathroom.

Stiles was up out of bed like a shot, following Cora into the bathroom with alert eagerness.

-&-

They had to gather at the Nemeton, which was impossibly hard to find, especially when you dreaded finding it. Stiles, Cora knew, did not have fond memories of the tree, and he dragged his feet through every step towards it. The tree, or what was left of it, had left a door open inside Stiles’ mind, and the shadow of the Nogitsune had slunk in through it. Cora still had to wake Stiles up sometimes from his nightmares, from his screaming that wasn’t quite loud enough to drown out the voice that the fox spirit had left behind.

Alan Deaton led them expertly through the Nature Preserve, the woods that Cora had once called her backyard but now she could only associate with death and deep-seated trauma. She wondered if these woods would ever feel like home again.

“The woods are just trees, the trees are just wood,” Cora muttered to herself.

“The trees aren’t just wood if they’re blessed by Druids to be sacred ground,” Stiles replied. They crested a hill, and at the bottom of the other side, they looked upon the Nemeton. “I hate that thing.”

“It’s just a big stump, I don’t get it,” Liam said.

“No bird nested in the Nemeton, nor did any animal lurk nearby; the leaves constantly shivered though no breeze stirred. Altars stood in its midst, and the images of the gods. Every tree was stained with sacrificial blood. The very earth groaned, dead yews revived; unconsumed trees were surrounded with flame, and huge serpents twined round the oaks. The people feared to approach the grove, and even the priest would not walk there at midday or midnight lest he should then meet its divine guardian,” Derek said softly.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Liam whispered.

“It’s a quote, a Roman poet wrote about a Nemeton in 61 AD.”

“That was a long time ago,” Liam stated.

“Come, children, we won’t hurt you, if you behave yourselves,” a voice echoed from every direction. A woman who looked no older than a grandmother stepped forward out of nothing, and stood at the base of the hill, waiting for the pack. She tipped her chin up and looked directly at Stiles. “Hello Stiles.”

Stiles’ face remained steady, not so much as twisting into a frown, and he held his tongue, which was impressive for him.

“Hello Cora,” the woman said, shifting her attention. “Please, join us.”

Cora looked to Deaton who nodded, and then to Derek, who nodded as well. She linked her hand in Stiles’, and began down the hill towards the woman. Cora recognized her as they drew closer as the leader of the coven they had interrupted before, and probably the same woman from her mother’s journal. She was more on the heavy side of plump, with laugh lines around her eyes and greying brown hair, but she still looked damn good considering how old she must be if she’d been an adult when Talia and Peter were young.

“Meet the rest of my coven,” the woman said, and five more people stepped out from nowhere. They were all different shapes and sizes and races, and it was honestly more representation than Cora had seen since moving back to Beacon Hills. “You stepped in on a rather important ritual of ours, just as your mother did before you, Cora. However, we came to the consensus that we believe you have been justly punished, and we can remove the affliction we laid upon you.”

A member cleared their throat and the leader seemed to know exactly what this throat clearing meant.

“Ahh, right. There is one more thing you must do.”

Stiles and Cora looked at each other, alarmed.

“Just one thing,” the woman assured them, which didn’t soften their alarm any. “We need you to apologize.”

Stiles’ alarm turned into confusion, while Cora let out a soft laugh.

“Fuck,” she heard Scott say from the hilltop. “Stiles is really bad at apologizing.”

“We’re sorry. Truly. We didn’t know, and we hope you can forgi-”

“Not from you, child. You are not the one we have a quarrel with,” a man with tired-looking almond-shaped eyes and hair darker than night itself said. “It is him we want the apology from.”

They all pointed in unison to Stiles, and Stiles didn’t say a word. Minutes passed in silence.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Stiles! Just apologize!” Malia called out.

“Seriously, I wanna go home! It’s freaky out here!” Liam agreed. The pack all made similar remarks, all grumbling to just get it over with already.

“Fine!” Stiles barked. He took a deep breath, tipped his chin up proudly, and said slowly, “Cora was right, we didn’t know, and there’s one thing you learn in this town, always be vigilant for something bad, but not everything _is_ bad that comes to town. I jumped to a conclusion-”

Cora could’ve sworn she heard a tiny snort and an even small giggle, but Stiles carried on as if he hadn’t heard.

“And didn’t give you a chance to explain yourselves. We, well, I deserved what I got.”

“And?” she prompted, and Stiles shot Cora a dirty look.

“And I am sorry.”

The leader nodded solemnly.

“Thank you. That was very well said.”

She stepped into the circle of her coven, all facing Stiles and Cora, lifting their hands up towards the sky in a kind of synchronization that you build over many, _many_ years together. Cora wasn’t sure what really happened next, but she was struck in the chest with a hot ball of light or lightning or something in between, and she just fell.

She wasn’t anywhere, her senses too muted to tell even if she was. This had happened before, when she and Stiles had first been changed, and they had simultaneously lost consciousness. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t panic, couldn’t do anything. She was in that vacuum again, and if she never entered this weird not-space ever again, she would glad of it.

-&-

When she woke, or came to, or whatever the correct term that applied here is, she was curled up next to a familiar warmth in the softness of her own bed at the loft, and when she opened her eyes, she was looking at a sharp jawline that was scruffy with stubble, an upturned nose, and two warm whiskey eyes.

“Hey stranger,” Stiles said, his voice deep and scratchy.

“Hey back,” she muttered, reaching out and ruffling his short hair.

“You feel okay?” he asked.

“I’ve never been better.”

He smiled and shuffled his body closer, resting his forehead against hers. She sighed in pure contentment.

“You’re beautiful,” Stiles said quietly like it was some kind of epiphany. “I mean it.”  

“Gee, thanks,” she said unsurely.

“And not just now that you’re back in your body. What I mean is that you are beautiful in every single way.”

“Words can’t bring you down,” Cora sang dopily, shifting up on top of his, pressing his back into the mattress.

“Will you shut it for a second?” Stiles asked, shaking his head. “I’m being serious here.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Continue.”

“Thank you,” he said with a grumble. “What I was trying to say is that I’ve taken this, us, our bodies for granted a lot, but there’s no body that they could stick us in where I wouldn’t still love you. I’m not in love with just your looks, although you are unfairly gorgeous in anything and everything. I’m in love with the way you call me on my shit, but still take care of me when I’m sick. I’m in love with the way you can put your hair up while driving, and I’m in love with the way you drive my Jeep, and the way that you and my dad act like you’ve been friends all your lives instead of just a couple of years, and the way that you make me watch dumb movies like Bring It On even though we both hate them, but they remind you of Laura so you’ll sit through them for her. I’m in love with the way that you butcher my name, and the way you sit with me on my mom’s birthday.”

Cora felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. They didn’t do mushy emotion things like this.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that nothing in this world, supernatural or otherwise, is going to stop me from loving you. I’m with you, come Hell or high-water.”

“I’m with you, too.”

“Maybe I’m with you is their always,” Liam said loud enough that even Stiles heard him, and they both froze. They hadn’t realized they weren’t in the loft alone, that the pack was still around.

“Wait, you’ve read The Fault in Our Stars?” Kira asked.

“No, I didn’t read it,” Liam said. “You don’t read movies anyway.”

There was a collective groan of disbelief.

“It was a book before it was movie, Liam,” Lydia said patiently.

“Oh.”

“Did you cry?” Malia asked.

“What? No! Of course not!”

“Yeah, he totally did,” Hayden said with a laugh. “He cried like a baby!”

“I did not!”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Scott said quietly. “I cried too.”

Cora dropped her head to rest in the middle of Stiles’ chest.

“Our pack are such dorks,” she told him.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, his grin happy and wide. “But they’re our dorks.”

“Cheeseball,” Cora said.

“Your cheeseball,” Stiles countered.

“Mine,” she agreed.

“Get a room!” Malia called out to them.

“We have a room! Get out of the loft if you don’t like it!” Cora called back to her cousin. She shook her head at Stiles.

“Let’s go see them,” Stiles said.

“But-”

“Someone had to carry us up here,” he said. “We should go see them.”

She groaned but pushed herself up off the bed. She grabbed Stiles’ arm and pulled him after her. They trudged halfway downstairs before realized they were wearing each other’s clothes, and turned around to change. Cora stripped out of the shirt now baggy in the shoulders, trading it for a sports bra and a tank top, then switched her boxers and jeans for her own underwear and a pair of loose running shorts. Stiles stepped out of the clothes he had borrowed from Cora, and then into the clothes Cora had borrowed from him, leaving Cora’s clothes by her hamper.

“That’s better,” Stiles said with a happy sigh.

They went back downstairs, and the pack’s eyes landed on them.

“It’s good to have you guys back the way you’re supposed to be,” Scott said, coming up to wrap Stiles in a tight hug. Cora slipped around the two to find a seat beside Lydia.

They had started off as, well, mostly enemies. They didn’t get along, and they had always been trying to one-up each other. It didn’t help that they were both a little in love with the same guy, although they were both too stubborn to admit that out loud. The thing that tipped the scales was that they saved each other’s lives, at first begrudgingly and then slowly because they cared about the other, and it was hard to hate someone that you were trying to save. Now, they were friends. They didn’t braid each other’s hair, or go shopping together, but they would hang out without the rest of the pack, and sometimes talk about their boyfriends, and what they hoped would happen when they got to their individual campuses. Cora had admitted to Lydia, and Lydia alone, that she was terrified of going to school and then Stiles deciding that he didn’t want her anymore because he had so many options available to him, and she admitted directly afterwards that she hated that she felt this way, that _Stiles Stilinski_ of all people made her feel this way. Lydia in turn confided that she was afraid of going to her own school and realizing she wasn’t as smart as she’d been, that she didn’t matter in the world after all, that she was a big fish in a little pond in Beacon Hills but college would prove that she was just a guppy in the ocean.

“How’s it feel?”

“To be a girl again?”

Lydia nodded.

“I never thought I would miss my boobs.”

“You do have pretty fantastic boobs,” Lydia agreed.

Cora laughed.

“I’m glad everything got sorted out, and you didn’t have to change your name to like Cornelius.”

“That would’ve fucking sucked. That’s an awful name.”

“Well, Stiles would’ve had to change his name, so someone had to get stuck with it,” Lydia said, barely getting her sentence out before they both started laughing hard. Cora leaned heavily into Lydia as they snorted and giggled.

“Oh my god!” she screeched. “He would have to be something tame like Mackenzie or Michaela!”

Cora couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard, her stomach physically aching as she tried to catch her breath but Lydia’s happy laughter made Cora just laugh more. It felt good to laugh. The past month or so hadn’t been rough, and she had laughed with Stiles and with Derek, but it still hadn’t felt the same somehow. She hadn’t been the same, even if she had still been herself.

She didn’t know if she was making sense, but she knew that this felt real. This moment, with Lydia for company, her boyfriend smiling at his best friend, their pack around them, this moment felt real in a way that it hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe she had been taking for granted this wonderful, albeit extremely dangerous life that had fallen into her lap. Maybe she didn’t know how good she had it, or something. She honestly didn’t _know_ what made this moment here, a simple moment that could happen any day, any more special than the next. She didn’t, but if she had learned anything, it was that she needed to embrace her life for what it was.

How it was wasn’t glamorous. They had to fight for their lives almost every day, although thankfully that hadn’t been the case for a while, but there was that stretch of year where it was just one bad thing after another. They rarely had time to just be kids, and they lived in constant fear of attending another funeral. They lived in fear of failure, and not just failing a test or a class, but of failing to save the lives of their classmates, their family, their friends. It wasn’t by any means a desirable life, but this is the one life that they had been given, and they were determined to cling to it as best as they could, no matter how feeble that was.

This life was all they had, and soon they would be leaving Beacon Hills, to pastures far less deadly than their own. Maybe they would return to their hometown again, but maybe they wouldn’t. The future was vast and mysterious, and Cora couldn’t wait to greet it.

She looked to Stiles later, after they had settled in to watch Netflix together, and smiled. He had squeezed into an armchair with Scott, because they were maybe-not-so-secretly in love with each other, while Cora and Lydia had taken the couch with Liam as their footrest at the end. The others had strewn themselves over couches and chairs, even dragging the mattress from Derek’s bed- Cora didn’t stop them even though she knew he would be pissed when he came home eventually.

They had so much life in front of them, so much to give and to get, so much to learn, and Cora, looking at them, couldn’t help the smile on her face. She wanted to discover and rediscover this life every day, just as long as she had these stupid, weird, ridiculously obnoxious, loveable, loud, completely wonderful people to come home to in the end.

That was it; that was the change she had felt.

This mish-mash group of kids felt more like home, felt more like her pack than the pack that had raised her for those years away. This collection of misfit toys was her home. This is where she belonged. This is where she would always belong.

She looked over them slowly, and identified the warm glow in her chest, her wolf practically humming with it. She was completely, totally, wholly, without a single doubt, content-

Her eyes pulled to Stiles.

She was entirely content, and it was 99.999% Stiles’ fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! If you did, give it some kudos, share it around, and please, COMMENT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!  
> Thank you, as usual, to Meredith for being a sounding board, beta, plot consultant, as well as my best friend! I would be lost without you! 
> 
> I think that's it for now. If you want to follow me on tumblr, I'm at deputy-heart-eyes.tumblr.com (I'm too lazy to figure out the code in order to link that so....), and hit me up if you have any requests/prompts that you want to see written, or if you just wanna say hi!  
> Thanks for reading, guys! I'll see you around next time!  
> -K
> 
> EDIT: One of my very good friends in the fandom, Errevs (aka Ingrid) is awesome and draws things sometimes out of things that I've written. She drew stuff for this too!!! [Find that here!](http://errevs.tumblr.com/post/128442927326/deputy-heart-eyes-writes-things-and-i-have-to-draw)


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